January 31, 2013

The one you keep pushing aside. You know it. It scoots in closer in the quiet moments which are too few and far between these days.

It tugs at your skirt like a knowing toddler and when you look down at it, you have the choice to pick it up and embrace it or to send it on its way.

Too many times you've asked it to wait.

Too many times you've talked yourself out of it.

You've told yourself it doesn't matter. You can do it later. It's not logical or practical or smart.

And another day passes,then a week...a month...and the dream begins to fade into the background of the busyness.

Until something ignites a spark. An idea. A silent thought. A moment. And you're struck again with that flame of passion...and you go back to thinking about it. Entertaining it. Believing it...just for a moment.

And you realize that maybe the time to embrace it has finally come. Maybe you're ready. Maybe you do have what it takes to stop being afraid. Maybe if you start believing in the dream, believing it's there for a reason...maybe then you can actually take a step of faith.

Put one toe over the line.

Then a foot.

Then another.

Maybe the big dream really IS in your reach...and all that's left is for you to just hold on tight...

January 29, 2013

Typically my issues have to do with trust. Partly trust in God. Partly trust in myself.

The slope is slippery.

Tonight I found myself in the red chair again, across from my husband. Our talking chairs, I've come to call them.

So, we talked.

Only this time I walked away with something different, as though the same thing he'd said a thousand times before finally sunk in.

He believes in me. Why don't I?

I know what I'm supposed to tell you...that writing books and attempting to live a creative life is all go with the flow...that once you're published, you can write and write to your heart's content, but I'm not sure in this day and age anyone can really do that.

The fact of the matter is...it's hard work. There's a lot of putting yourself out there. A lot of waiting. And in the waiting, your creativity doesn't sleep--at least not always. So you find your head spinning and your direction aimless.

So tonight I left the house for about a half an hour to spend what's left of my grocery budget (and not a penny more) at Target. Do you know how hard that was? And I took the long way home because something in my spirit didn't feel settled.

So, I prayed.

And I asked God to move. And the words came back at me clear as day...

Don't ask me to move on your behalf if you aren't willing to move on mine.

See. He's been talking to me. He's been shifting things in my heart. He's been making himself very clear, putting up with my "just to be sure" prayers. He's done all that for me.

And what have I done but complain?

You can't un-ask the question just because the answers scare you. You have to listen.

January 25, 2013

Growing up in a small town, there weren't a ton of opportunities to express myself. As a non-athlete (I know you're surprised to learn this about me), there was a limited supply of extra curricular activities.

In Jr. High, I tried basketball and volleyball...then ended up starting a school newspaper. In high school, I was Class President, Editor of the newspaper...nerdy stuff like that.

But for all my attempt to fill the time, there was one place where I seemed to come alive...on the stage. Still, there weren't a ton of plays being produced in SmallTown, Illinois...so when I announced I wanted to major in theatre, I was met with that concerned furrowed brow that conveys a loud and clear message...without a single word.

This is not a smart idea.

I went on several college visits, and I remember the one that made my college choice clear. It was to Bradley University in Peoria and they let me sit in on an acting class. Up until that point, I'd done lots of shows...but I'd never actually sat in an acting class. Not like this.

The only way I can describe it is that suddenly I came alive. When the professor spoke and moved and challenged the students, my spirit kind of leapt. Like, bubbled up and almost overflowed. I'd never seen anything like it in my life. Much to parents' dismay, I'm sure, I was hooked. On this school. On that program. On the stage.

Over the course of those four years, there was one phrase that that same professor drilled into our heads...Dare to fail gloriously.

Truth be told, I'd forgotten all about it until this week...I was going about my business and I started thinking about a couple of crazy ideas I've been kicking around in the back of my head. The "What ifs" came at me hard and my anxiety skyrocketed. (I'm in the market for armpit guards if anyone knows where I can find them.)

Fear is a nasty thing, isn't it? It's paralyzing. And every time I started to get really excited about this crazy-put-myself-out-there-could-be-a-total-flop idea...I felt that fear come over me. And I know the Bible. I know all the places God tells us not fear. I know it my head...but I was having trouble getting it into my heart.

And then I remembered this phrase. Dare to fail gloriously.

A celebration of failure? Couldn't happen... and yet, in the context of theatrical rehearsal, it absolutely CAN. I mean, now that I'm directing shows...I want my kids to fail gloriously. I want them to do outlandish, crazy, might-never-work-in-a-million-years kind of things... because in those moments of throwing yourself out there...greatness comes.

You stumble upon an idea that opens up a whole new world for your character. You uncover backstory you didn't know existed. You find mannerisms or strength or motivation that wasn't there before...because you're open to it. And you're exploring. And you're searching.

And you're willing to fail.

Wow. That's powerful.

Failure doesn't have to be a shameful thing. It can be glorious if you let it. If you learn from it. If you embrace it.

So what if you try to fly and you plummet to the ground at first? Eventually, you'll find your wings.

January 24, 2013

I'm not trying to rush January, but part of my goals for the upcoming year are to be more present... more balanced...more focused on what's going on around me, rather that letting it swish on by... and that means, celebrating when the season calls for it.

Truth be told, I've never been much of a Valentine's Day celebrate-r, which is odd considering my affinity for romance...but this year, I want to take some time to celebrate LOVE.

So, I've created this nifty little printable in hopes that you might do the same.

When Adam & I were going through the craziness of moving, we started to realize that we really could get through whatever life through at us...as long as we stuck together. I believe in the power of two, so I knew that wherever life took us, whatever hurts we encountered, I could always rely on "me + you" or "you + me."

January 23, 2013

I wish I could tell you I clearly remember what it was like to be your age, but the truth is, my memory has lapses in it, spaces that have disappeared and details that have vanished.

If I did remember, I would like to write you a letter as my eleven-almost twelve-year-old self, because I bet we had a lot in common. I bet we would've been great friends.

While I can't recall the typical day-to-day of sixth grade, I can recall the overarching feeling of being stuck between childhood and adulthood. I can distinctly remember how it felt to feel like no one heard my voice...to be so sure I had important things to say.

Why won't anyone listen to me? I'm old enough to understand what everyone is talking about. I have opinions too.

But now that I'm older, I see that was a time of great development for me. A time of learning, of figuring out who I was going to be. In some ways, it was one of the most important years of my life.

So, I don't take any of your feelings for granted. Because everything in your world really is heightened. You feel things on a different level than someone who has lived 37 years. You are welcome to feel those feelings. I wouldn't have it any other way.

But, I think there's something you should know.

I am not your friend. I am your mother. There's a big difference. In my mind, God's given me a duty. To protect you. To raise you. To love you. And if I simply brush off bad behavior or sass-talk, blaming it on hormones, I don't feel like I'm doing my job.

This is a really trying time for every girl. You haven't quite become responsible, so I have to nag a little. You don't want to be told what to do, so we sometimes butt heads. You haven't fully grasped what it is you're supposed to learn...and many days, neither have I.

The truth is that while I'm not your friend, you might think that I'm your enemy. Nothing could be further from the truth. I am your cheerleader. I am your confidant. I am your teacher. Your role model. Your dance partner.

I'm the one that will hold you when you experience your first broken heart. I'm the one who creates a safe place for you right here in this house...a place where you can laugh, cry, struggle, fail, fall flat on your face and still know that you will always be loved.

Always.

To that end, I must tell you, in hindsight, I do have one regret--vivid in my pieced-together memory. I wish I'd learned sooner to appreciate the family God gave me. The mom who wasn't my friend (yet), the dad who worked hard to provide for our family and prayed over us every day, the brother and sister who pushed every last one of my buttons but have since become two of my favorite people in the world.

I wish I'd cherished them and treated them as though they were my safe haven...because in retrospect, they were.

This family is your spring board. This home is your foundation. And we will do everything we can to make absolutely sure to create the perfect environment to launch you into whatever God has for you, but I implore you now...please see us for who we are.

People, with feelings, oozing with love for you.

Let us be a part of your journey...even the ugly parts that twist your stomach into knots. Because when you cry, I will cry. And when you celebrate, I will celebrate. And when you can't speak, I will hold you.

January 22, 2013

I don't fancy myself a brave person. In fact, sometimes, I'm downright wimpy. I worry a lot. If I hear the slightest noise at night, I lay in bed awake imagining worst case scenarios and wondering how much damage I could do with a blunt object in case we had an intruder. And, oh, shoot, do I have any blunt objects near the bed?

It's not the best way to live.

But God reminded me of something the other day...and it kind of came out of nowhere really. I started to think back to the days leading up to our move to Colorado. Days where I sensed His presence more than I had--maybe ever before.

It should have terrified me to do that. It made no sense on paper. I had no job. Adam was leaving a job he'd been in for 12 years. It wasn't a "smart" financial move. We had to rent from a crabby old man who used our rent money to fill the house with workers every. single. week.

We didn't know a single soul in Colorado. We were wonderfully, horribly on our own.

But a funny thing happens when you step out of your comfort zone. When you're led by the peace, you're okay with not having all the answers. You don't know how you'll pay the bills or make new friends or get through your kids being the "new kid" at school. Twice. But you do it.

And on the other side of it, you should be stronger and braver and more willing to take risks... but you fall into a safe pattern again and you forget everything he's brought you through.

On the outside, it may look like my hardships have been few, and in some ways, they have... but in other ways, I've just realized, I've been through a lot. Not the kind of "lot" that would have me crying on the intro of a reality tv show to make viewers like me more... but still, a lot.

Emotionally, physically, spiritually...our family has been tested. I, personally, have been tested. Often, I fail, but I'm thankful God gives me the chance to learn from each mistake.

What I've discovered is that HE brought me through it...so why is it so difficult to believe he can bring me through every challenge I face? Why do I constantly fear?

It's almost like we think we aren't worthy of his help. We think we've got to figure it all out on our own... but that's so not what God has for us.

He's just waiting for us to ask.

I tend to be stubborn, so learning my lessons is an ongoing process with me, and with each new challenge, the first thing that pops in my head is "But what if this is the time God decides to throw me out of the boat... what if I can't swim? If I jump...is he really going to be there to catch me?"

Fear can be such a paralyzing thing, but over and over, God tells us NOT to fear. Why can't I get it through my thick skull?

So, let's talk.

What is God asking you to do...and does it scare you? If so, how are you handling that fear?

January 21, 2013

On the one hand, I love that my whole family is usually together, and after long, crazy weekends, we need the rest. On the other hand, I find myself constantly feeling guilty/worried/anxious about church.

We've been attending a church here locally off and on since we moved back, but we're still one foot out the door kind of people. I know. Bad Christians. But seriously, I would like to see a movement in the church where we cut out all the judging, get rid of all the Christianese (Can I get an amen?) and get to a place where we truly are just walking this journey out together.

No labels. No criticism. No appearances for appearances sake.

Wouldn't that be something?

So when we woke up Sunday morning, we considered trying a new church. I mean, we should, right? Try out every single one. Make sure we're not missing out?

There was just one problem. Nobody wanted to go.

Sophia commented on how crabby everyone was. I foolishly expected to find something suitable to wear in my closet. Ethan was near-tears at the thought of getting out of his pajamas. And Sam just wanted cookies.

Fun times on Sunday morning.

But after miscalculating the start time (that's what happens when you're a church-tryer-outter. You fail to catalog start times appropriately...) we saw an opportunity. We never arrive in time to get the kids in their classes. This would be their day.

And that's what we did.

Each of our kids complained about this (having been the new kid over and over for the love of all that is holy I can't say I blame them. I don't like to be the new kid either.)

But a funny thing happened. We really loved it. Or at least I did, I can never tell what's going on in Adam's head on days when there is football to be watched. But sitting in church as a twosome? We haven't done that in years. Actually, we haven't done that ever.

Suddenly, a whole new world kind of opened up to me, and wouldn't you know it? God spoke words I needed to hear. Words just for me.

The best part was picking up our kids. After a fountain of tears, Sam calmed down and ended up loving his class (Sophia stayed with him.) Ethan also had a blast and walked out with a goofy prize that he's been carrying around ever since.

And I started to see the need to have it in our lives. Church, I mean. Colorado was about observation for us. It was about being in the background and rediscovering that personal relationship with God...in a new way. And I found myself closer to God than ever...but it wasn't because of church.

No, church is about something else entirely. It's about connection. It's about the people. It's about growing in a place that allows for your failures...and helps you move past them. It's about sharing your gifts and being celebrated for who you are in Christ.

I began to see that maybe my own critical eye had been turned toward the church at large. Maybe it's had everything I need from the very beginning. Maybe, just maybe, I could feel at home here.

Yes, I still wish there were fewer "crowd pump-ups" (you know where the pastor says "Everyone say...insert Christian phrase here...) but really... is that something to get hung up on?

It was a revelation for me this week. A reminder that while I hole myself away day after day with little to no face-to-face interaction, this is not how God created us. He wants us to be light in the darkness...and you just can't do that if you never leave the house.

And getting refueled in a place that challenges and inspired you is one of the best ways to do that...

January 18, 2013

The past few months, I've begun to take an interest in something I never expected...my dad's wood shop. I got this wild hair of an idea that I wanted to learn how he takes old, beat up pieces of wood and crafts them into art.

It's been challenging, because he's a purist. And the last time I had a piece of wood in my hands, I turned it into this:

My dad isn't a fan of painted wood. I never really got it before. I mean, this is probably my favorite piece of artwork I've ever made. And it's on a wood slab.

But then, I started spending more time with him, watching the way the machines work and learning about the grain of the wood. I now have a better appreciation for the fact that every kind of wood is different.

For instance, this is a hand-crafted cutting board my dad made out of a variety of exotic woods. Each one looks completely unique and beautiful in its own right...even I wouldn't dream of slopping paint on these.

The way he turns wood into art astounds and inspires me. And he says he's not creative. I love the whole idea of taking a splintery piece of a tree in the back yard and turning in to something you want to put on display.

It amazes me that he dreams these things up in his head... and there's a part of me that wants to learn how to do it for myself.

For now, I'll enjoy the fruit of his labors...and while we work on a few projects, I'll soak it all up and try to learn as much as I can.

I'm constantly inspired by the idea that there is art everywhere...and each of us has it inside of us, expressing it in our own unique ways.

We've been trying to talk my dad into selling some of these pieces, but he already owns one business, I don't know that he wants another. Still, I think there's a market for beautiful, handcrafted pieces in everyone's home.

I'm kind of ashamed I didn't see it sooner, that I didn't have the instant ability to celebrate the beauty of the natural elements, in each form... and while I don't intend to stop painting wood any time soon, I think maybe I'll pause and make sure I'm doing it a service before I do.

In the meantime, wish me luck with the planer, the sander and the router...I'm determined to learn my way around that wood shop.

January 16, 2013

He calls me from the road, on his way to work, and tells me he prays at the same point of his commute every day.

I quiet the background noise and try to focus in on what he has to say...because in my spirit, I know it's something I need to hear.

He tells me this morning he prayed for me.

I say my own silent prayer of thanks. He must be able to tell I needed it today.

Of course he knows the inner workings of my mind. He recognizes when I'm in a bad mood and he almost always knows why.

His words from last week whirl back toward me. "So, be afraid. But do it anyway."

He doesn't want to hear all the reasons I'm justified in my fear. For him, it's cut and dry. He knows the value of bravery, having been so very brave in his own right the past few years. So my instant thought that he just doesn't understand is nothing more than a lie.

He gives me an insight into myself that I hadn't considered. He's good like that--seeing things from a different angle...and sometimes it's clear he knows what I need better than I know it myself. I do the same for him, but it's easier to believe in his gifts and talents than it is to believe in my own.

"I believe you can do anything," he tells me.

Even the scary things? Even the big, ridiculous things?

For all my feeling like God has been silent lately, I have to wonder if he's just choosing to speak to me in a different way...? Through a husband who loves me, perhaps? Through that gut feeling that has never steered me wrong before? Could it be he's been speaking all along, but I haven't been able to hear?

It occurs to me that not everyone has someone in their life who believes in them--someone who won't laugh at their big, ridiculous dreams... it occurs to me that someone could be you. So, even though I hate to admit this weakness, this mountain I walk around every single day, I wanted to put it out there...to tell you and to pray you hear me when I say...

You aren't alone.

If you're struggling to overcome the fear, struggling to believe that you can do something big and amazing, struggling to see yourself as valuable, struggling to do it in spite of the "what ifs"...you aren't alone.

January 14, 2013

This weekend was an incredibly busy one for Adam and I. While a part of me wished I was off at CHA with the rest of my artsy friends, I knew there was something that needed to be done here.

Auditions for the new musical we're directing.

I'm sure this won't be the last time I talk about Hercules because it's a show we wrote and because I always learn so much from the kids I direct... and this weekend was no exception.

Friday night, we filtered into a very warm room in a local church where we held auditions. Nearly 100 kids took their turn getting up on the stage and singing their little hearts out... and we smiled and watched and recorded thoughts and over and over I kept thinking the same thing.

It takes incredible bravery to do what they're doing up there.

Occasionally, one of the kids would cry--either before or after their performance. Always we went to them to tell them not to worry...because they'd done such a good job just by getting up there.

It occurred to me with one child in particular, that there was enough fear to bring about a pretty steady diet of tears for a few very long minutes...

He was scared...but he did it anyway. Nine years old and he talked himself into being brave.

I'm 37 and I wonder if I can do the same thing.

I walked away feeling so encouraged and so inspired to have witnessed this kind of bravery over and over again, and I knew once again (not that I'd been doubting) that God had brought us back here for this very purpose. This is exactly what I'm meant to do in this exact moment.

And my soul was so still for it.

And I am blessed.

January 11, 2013

When we moved back to Illinois from Colorado, we knew we needed a house with creative spaces for both Adam and I. It's not often you find such a thing, especially when you're also hoping for four bedrooms, but somehow, miraculously, we did.

And I'm so thankful every single day.

Our house is such a blessing to me...but it's definitely a work in progress. I felt a little selfish starting our renovations with my own office space, but it was the most pressing considering the fact that I work from home.

And also considering this is what it looked like before:

The folks who lived here before really loved earth tones.

Redoing rooms is a family affair in our house.

So we all got to it. And I'm so happy we did. Not long after I'd finished I got an email from one of my all-time favorite magazines,Creating Keepsakes. They were doing another Creative Spaces issue and would I be interested in being a part of it?

Um, does the world as I know it revolve around coffee? Of course I want to be a part of it!

My good friend Liz's room was featured in their first issue, so I already knew this was going to be one of those slam dunk publications, the kind you get lost in...the kind you read with a notebook nearby for all the inspiration inside...because who doesn't LOVE to peek inside other people's creative spaces? (And who isn't looking to be more organized?)

So, one day in October, CK sent me Adam. (Ironic, considering that the Adam they sent was not the Adam whose last name I share.)

This Adam is a hugely talented photographer here in the Midwest. And I got to watch while he set up and shot my room.

I tried to stay out of his way, but I'm a scrapbooker, you know I had to take my own pictures of this. And look, I was sort of incognito...

Anyway, my copy should be here any day now and I can hardly wait to see it! Just the sneak peek has me dying to see more!!! You can see that for yourself right HERE.

The funny thing is, in her post, Megan points out an Ikea cart (it's on the cover) that's featured FOUR different times in this issue...and while I had NO idea because I'd never seen it before, I spotted it in the bathroom section at Ikea but sadly didn't pick it up. I mentioned my regret in passing and guess whose sweet 'ol husband made the hour drive to Ikea to get it for her for Christmas? Yep. It was the best Christmas present.

I might go back and get another one! It's SOOOO cute!

So, all that leads me to the most important part of this post...

WHO WANTS TO WIN?!

Today I get to give away a copy of this fabulous magazine to one of my very lucky readers!

Let me tell you, it's chock full of inspiration and organization and practical tips you can actually make work for you, so even if you're not looking to overhaul your space, there is still so much you can get out of this book...

So, how do you enter?

1. In the comments section of this blog post, tell me what space makes you feel the most creative?

There. You're entered.

BUT...for additional chances to WIN...

2. Blog, Tweet, Facebook or Pin this post (in other words, share, share, share!) and then come back here and leave another comment for each one you do. That means FOUR more chances to WIN!

3. Cross your fingers.

I'm pretty sure the issue is popping up at Barnes and Noble and other bookstores, so make your way out to grab a copy right away! You're going to LOVE all the inspiration you find.

Now, leave a comment...I'll draw a winner next week so spread the word for lots of chances to WIN!

January 10, 2013

This week has felt more like a month. Getting back into the swing of things has been more difficult than I expected.

I find myself scattered and trying to catch up. The other day, I started to clean out my inbox, finally returning emails and patting myself on the back that I'd made some headway.

Within an hour, 85% of the people I'd written had responded. Apparently, they each have a better system for responding to email than I do.

It just kind of goes that way sometimes. You get caught up doing important things like marveling at how very much Ted Dekker resembles Bo Brady:

Days of our Lives fans of yesteryear will remember the REAL Bo Brady.

Truth be told, last night I went to bed with a word in my head...quiet. And I knew God was speaking. He does that all the time, they say.

I don't think it's the same as him saying "Shut up for a minute"...I just think he's longing for me to be mentally still. And I struggle with that...it's why I started writing my prayers down in the first place years ago...because I was far too distracted to focus on praying out loud.

I'm like the Dog in "Up."

I blame this tardy reflection on Christmas and New Year's. When everyone else was pondering their lives, I was purposely not thinking...I gave myself permission to stop the busy-brain and just soak it all up.

The time with my family...

The Christmas Eve traditions...

Art time with the littles...all of them...

And I didn't think about blog stats or marketing ideas or what comes next...not even once. Maybe once. But not much more than that.

It was liberating to give myself a mental vacation.

To spend time lazing with the family and loving on them the way I should be every day (even when they are grumpy)...

She was grumpy.

I felt filled up. Full up. Overflowing.

Thankful.

And now I'm left trying to pull those things into my daily life. My real life. The life with duties and responsibilities and deadlines.

What I don't always like is when God changes the plan or takes me on an unexpected detour. It always stretches me in every feasible way.

Walking 'round the mountain (again) I want to shake a fist up at God until I realize if I'd learn the thing once and for all I wouldn't be here again.

How hard-headed can one girl be?

But yesterday, something happened to me. A revelation of sorts...a moment of stark clarity where I realized, once again, how very much God loves us. How he gives us just what we need when we need it... and it almost never looks like we expect it to.

There I was devising my plan again. I'd been doing it for months. I had things all sorted. I had a checklist and everything made sense to me.

Until it didn't. Until things started going in the opposite direction...until the prayers I was praying seemed to be going unheard. And I'm not talking silence from heaven...I'm talking answered prayers that weren't at all the answers I wanted or thought I needed.

And the truth is, I was kind of mad.

I know we're not supposed to get angry with God, but I knew what he'd told me, and it felt like he gave me a directive and then walked out the door. Pushed me out of the boat, so to speak.

God, where'd you go?

Do you ever feel that way?

But yesterday, something struck me. It wasn't that he'd gone from me...it's that I'd started making Him smaller than He is. My thinking--the way I was planning things out in my head--it became all about what I thought I knew.

I stopped looking at my life through God's lens and started processing everything in my own understanding.

Yesterday, I spotted a little sticky note under a stack of papers on my desk. I wasn't even really cleaning, just sort of shuffling things around when I saw it. On it there were words I'd written...the kind you write down and almost instinctively say "Yeah Right. Like that'll happen" AS you're righting.

Big dream kind of stuff.

See, for all my head knowledge that God puts desires in your heart so you'll ask him for them...I didn't believe he had any interest in mine. In my own thinking, I'd begun to limit God.

And it really wasn't about God. It was about me. It was about thinking I wasn't good enough or smart enough...that it was selfish to pray certain things...like a kid just out of college figuring exactly what I needed to get by and not a cent more, I presented my request to God.

But God isn't a God of mediocrity. And I'm not just talking money...I'm talking every aspect of our lives...he doesn't want us to live a mediocre life. He wants us to push for more. He wants us to work for more. He wants us to love unconditionally, to give wholeheartedly, to believe fully.

And somehow, I lost sight of that for myself.

So I took out my journal and I scrawled it all down. So messy I can't even read it. But I wanted to remember the power of the revelation.

Don't limit God. He has HUGE plans for us. Wait on him in earnest expectation.

January 08, 2013

One of my very favorite things about Christmas is the time I get to spend with my sister and her family.

We're very different, Carrie and I. She is often on the go and I'm content to be home. She's athletic and I'm...well, not. She's totally goofy and I tend to be kind of lame and un-fun.

But where it matters, we're very much the same. We share the same value of family and we both have a profound love of scarves.

(Carrie's Cmas present scarf)

Oh wait. That's Carrie's scarf too. One of her girls down in Georgia made it for her. I am willing to pay her to make me one too because it's awesome.

Anyway, I have a hard time shopping for people. I put a ton of pressure on myself to get things right, but Carrie mentioned she really wanted some artwork for her bedroom. It seems like our own bedrooms are the last to be decorated, doesn't it?

Mine is. You should see the nasty blue color walls we're sporting right now.

Think...nautical.

With this bedspread:

(I do miss having walls that I picked out myself...)

I've completely sidetracked myself.

Anyway, I had been dabbling in hand lettering on wood signs ever since I raided my dad's scrap wood pile. It's amazing how he can turn the nastiest wood into something beautiful... so I had a big piece here, and I decided to attempt to create something for Carrie.

I started by diluting white paint and brushing a thin coat onto the wood.

Then, I chose a phrase appropriate for a bedroom and printed the letters out at the size I needed.

I used graphite paper to trace them onto my background.

I do not have a steady hand so this was slow-going the first time, and I learned a TON. I now use tape on the straight edges, though I'm getting better free-hand.

I think.

This is how it looked when I was done (excuse the iPhone photo).

I called my dad and asked him if we could build a frame for it. I brought it to their house on Christmas Eve day and he and I escaped to the wood shop where he taught me how to make a frame.

I am not ready to do this alone but it was fun to watch... Once he'd affixed it to the artwork (I knew I wanted it flush to the front), I painted it the same blue as in the word "Bless". (The blue is actually a nice turquoise though you can't tell it from these pictures.)

I was pretty happy with the way it turned out:

My only regret is that I didn't get a great photo of it before Carrie left for Georgia, but I think you kind of get the idea...

I thought about painting some funky design on the right side but decided not to. I wanted it clean and simple.

I've just finished making one for my own house where I learned how to distress the letters to get that chippy wood look we all love so much...but the frame won't be done till the weekend.

January 07, 2013

I forgot to tell you before I did and wonder if an "Out Fishing" sign should've graced this page for the past two weeks.

I needed the break. I still do a little, I think.

Last night, Adam said to me regarding the past two weeks, "This is the first time I've ever seen you just do nothing." I almost got offended. "When did I do that?"

"At your mom's. Here. You just sat and painted with the kids. Or the day you sat and read a book." (Submerged by Dani Pettrey. Highly recommend.)

He said it like he admired it. Like I'd done something noble. But it struck me like I'd done something wrong. I find I'm so caught up in doing all the time. Even when I say I'm going to knock that off. This morning, as I returned to my regularly scheduled program, I pondered the question "Where does this desire to achieve come from?"

It keeps me from relaxing. It drives me away from contentment. It prevents me from allowing myself to be loved...just for being who I am.

The way God wants to love me.

As New Year's came and went, I thought about choosing one word. I considered making resolutions. But then I realized I was just setting myself up to fail. I always have a list of goals...and they have nothing to do with the calendar. Just because I turned the page on 2012, doesn't mean my goals change...

And yet, the pressure is there. To be thoughtful. To be in line with what everyone else is doing.

But I'm not. I'm not mentally prepared to choose a word for 2013, and I have a long list of things I'd like to change about myself right now...yet somehow they overwhelm me.

There are simple tasks:

Eat healthy dinners together as a family. (No judgment on how many per week.)

Drink more water.

Pray more.

Go easy on myself.

At what point do we cut ourselves a little slack? When do I settle in to God's warmth and just rest? For all my head knowledge, I wish my heart would latch on to that one...

Because sheer exhaustion will steal your joy.

And because rest is a weapon.

I'm starting this year with big faith and lots of prayer...getting to a place where God's voice is the loudest one I hear. Shutting out what everyone else is saying and honing in on the One whose opinion matters.